Everything was Tragic
by ValerieViolette
Summary: A companion piece to "Everything was Funny", focusing on Astoria Greengrass.


It was amazing how everything changed from what was always defined. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing was supposed to change. When she thought about it, she couldn't even move the corners of her mouth into a smile. She sat in the room that her estranged sister had given her, staring at the pale green wall. She had refused her sister's protests of her doing anything for her. She was walking around blankly, only ever seeming fine when she was with her son. She just sat on the mattress, staring at the pale green wall opposite of her. This is all that she had now.

* * *

That night was when everything started. Nothing would've happened if she hadn't tried to talk to her husband. With a shaky sigh of breath and the slow tears rolling down her cheeks, she leant her head back against the bed's headboard. She could hear the soft exhales of her son as he slept underneath the bed covers next to her. It was gnawing at her. It was _her_ fault for why he didn't have a father anymore. If she hadn't tried to talk to her husband about his disorder, they wouldn't have fought and she would've taken him from their home. She wouldn't be at her sister house, virtually living in the guest room.

She could remember the day that she woke up in the scratchy bed sheets of her rented room at the Leaky Cauldron. She could even remember the feeling of humiliation of when she arrived there seeing Neville Longbottom and his wife, Hannah, barely able to pay for her room of one night. She knew what they thought of her: the wife of a Death Eater. Even though he was proven innocent of his crimes, no one thought of him as a person affected by the war just as everyone else had. She even saw the look in their eyes when they saw her son's blonde hair. It was though they wanted to say something about him, an insult of some kind. How they could think something horrible about an innocent child just because of who his parents were was something she could never understand.

The dull knock at her sister's door was when she really knew that things weren't going to get better. After the war, the tensions at the Greengrass home were high. It brought out the tensions between the two daughters even more. Of course she was jealous of her sister. Daphne got everything she wanted with ease while she was stuck with working toward everything else. The argument between the two of them after their testifying day in court was what had caused their solid years of estrangement. A flight of ill-figured pride went through her as she remembered how strong she stood in front of her sister in the sitting room. She was finally ready to speak everything ill-thought of her sister, every morsel of loathing she had for her. There was no true winner then, but it was evident how was now. Daphne had a great husband, Theodore Nott, a twin daughter and son: perfect. She wasn't like her; she would never be like her.

The day that everything changed for real was deeply embedded in her memory. Every time she went to sleep, she had a nightmare about it. Theodore had to come into her room every night to wake her up before she made enough noise to wake up the children. It was the day that she felt brave enough to go back to him; to go back and apologise. She held onto Scorpius's hand tightly as he tried to run after an anonymous feather. His bubbling laughter was what kept her walking through Diagon Alley.

She had to get something for him: his favourite cake. She had to get him something, even if it wasn't healthy. There was no doubt that he wasn't eating anything since she had left the month before. He couldn't cook to save anyone's life. The familiar memory of when she dared him to make dinner. He burnt the pasta and the meatballs, and even cut himself as he tried to make Scorpius's dinner. He gave her a glare over his shoulder as he tried to clean up the mess he made. It made her laugh then, knowing that he was joking and that he had proved her point about him being a horrible cook. "_We had house-elves doing the work for us!_" he always said.

The bewildering stares that she received that day were normal up until the moment she had went to the cake shop. She finally knew then why everyone was looking at her the way they were. It wasn't because she was Astoria Malfoy. It was because of what was the headline of the Daily Prophet. "_Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, Found Dead in Home_" she stared at it, unbelieving. She didn't know how much time had passed but every second felt like a year. Her grip on Scorpius's hand had loosened completely. She could barely breathe. It couldn't be true; he couldn't be dead.

She ran from the cake shop, leaving Scorpius behind yelling for her, as she ran back to her and Draco's home. He would be there. He would be lying in bed, see her and run to hug her. He wouldn't be dead. He was too strong to be dead. He couldn't leave Scorpius behind; he wouldn't leave her behind. He was the only one that loved her truly; he couldn't be gone.

Every hope she had that he would be alive and lying in bed were shattered as she saw a crumpled note in his mother's photo album. Ignoring the heavy tears blurring her eyesight and the photo of a young Narcissa hugging her soon-to-be husband Lucius Malfoy, she read what was written on the paper.

_Ria,_

_ I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being there for you when you needed me: the times when you found out your father had died, when you received your sister's wedding invitation. Everything is funny if you think about it, Ria. You left and I have nothing. I don't even know if I'm sane as I write this. I know I can't be for the reason I'm writing it. Everything's funny because we did these things, not all of them bad, but that's all we're judged upon. You were good; you only loved me. That was what you did wrong. Maybe you would've been better off if you hadn't testified that one day. I wouldn't have noticed you as someone other than the sister of Daphne Greengrass. I wouldn't have tried to find you, to thank you for testifying on my behalf. I wouldn't have fallen for your humour, or your wit, or your beauty._

_ Maybe it's my fault or yours or maybe it's no one fault. Maybe it's just fate. A tragic fate, like Romeo and Juliet. We were meant to be…but not now? If not now, when? Can you answer me that? You probably find this until it's too late. I don't think I'm going to do anything; this might just end up in the trash._

_ If it doesn't… just tell Scorpius that I love him and that I'm sorry for not being there for him. I want him to understand that he had been the light of my life. I hope that he…don't let him find out how I feel right now. I don't want my son to know what his father had turned into._

_ And, Ria…just know that I love you and nothing will change that._

_ I'm sorry Draco_

She couldn't believe it. He was gone.

* * *

The knock the bedroom door brought her out of her memories. With the small click of the door opening, in came her sister. Daphne's hair had been held in a tie, sitting neatly over her shoulder. Her black clothes only made her light brown-blonde hair stand out more. An ill-timed pang of jealousy went through Astoria as she saw yet another flawless quality in her sister. Why Draco called her beautiful was something she wanted to know. "Toria…"

"Fifi…" The whisper that escaped her was choked by a sob. "_Fifi…he's gone…_"

Daphne's arm wrapped around her sister's shoulders pulling her close, "_I know…_" The tears that she held back fell from her eyes, choked sobs flowing from her. She needed her sister then. Older sisters were there to help the younger one. "_Why—why did—_" Daphne smoothed Astoria's hair as she rocked her back and forth, trying to soothe her. "_He—he asked me if we were—were meant to be,_" she cried. "_He wanted…wanted me to answer him…He even said that he probably won't do—hic!—anything. He said so! Why…_"

Even after finally coming home, Scorpius asleep with his cousins, she didn't cry to her sister. She didn't speak to her and ignored her pleas to talk to her. All of it was coming out now. "_Why did he leave me alone?_" She felt like screaming; she wanted to get all of her emotions out. He left her feeling guilty, angry, depressed, and even happy as she remembered certain times with him. Why did he leave? "Fifi…_why?_"

"I don't know…"

"_You're supposed to know! You're supposed to know everything!_" She pounded her fists on her shoulders, yelling at her."You, Daphne Nott, are the smart one, the one that _everyone_ loved. You're supposed to know everything. Tell me…_why did he leave me alone? Was there nothing for him to live for? Did he not want to live to see his son grow up? Why!_"

"I don't know, Toria…even I don't know…"

* * *

As Draco's coffin was lowered into the open plot, Astoria stared at it. That was going to be the last time she was going to see her husband. Scorpius was as quiet as her, holding her hand, getting one final look at his father before he was covered with earth. His green bow tie was the only thing that stuck out of the image of both of them. He told her that it was "Daddy's favvy colour". Astoria didn't say anything but kissed him hard on the forehead.

Finally, Draco's coffin was lowered completely. A sniff and the wipe of a tear later, Astoria slowly made her way forward to look down. The polished wood gleamed against the dirt that surrounded it. "Scorpius, give Daddy his flower." Scorpius stepped forward and looked down into his father's grave. He held two white roses in his left hand. He held his hand, meaning for her to take one. After the silent exchange, Scorpius looked back to his father's coffin. "I love you, Daddy." He threw his rose down with it landing awkwardly onto of the coffin. Astoria kissed Scorpius on the forehead, whispering that he did well.

"Draco…we were meant to be." She dropped her rose with it landing closely next to her son's.

Stepping back holding Scorpius's hand, she wiped away the new tears. He said that everything was funny when you thought about it. And he was right; everything is funny if you think about it. But, right now, there was no comedy in this tragedy.


End file.
